Alice In My Veins
by finishyourtea
Summary: "I have Alice in my veins. " Grace fumed, her green eyes ablaze. Scarecrow let out a low chuckle, too low for Grace to actually hear. Just as quirky and spiteful as I remember. We need to change that...don't you agree, Jonny boy?
1. Thanatophobia

Before I say anything, I would like to thank the lovely LeighhVanMonroe Xx for allowing me to revise/reinvent (I am not quite sure what to call it) her story, and for letting me publish my finished work. Keep in mind I have only done the first chapter. Also, I have changed the title ,but please keep in mind that this is partly her work as well! She was my inspiration, after all.

The title of her story is **Nothing to Fear**. Look it up on her profile. =)

Now, there are a few things that I would like to mention. The reason Dr. Crane is not referred to as Dr. Crane is because it gives him an air of anonymity. I portrayed him as both Jonathan , and Scarecrow which is why he seems to be a bit bipolar. My interpretation of his character is that he is two separate people inhabiting one body. You do not have to agree with me in the slightest that is just how the story goes.

PS: Thanatophobia = FEAR OF DEATH

**Thanatophobia**

The metal table was pure ice against her skin, the light above her, blinding. This omitted her from being able to see her surroundings, which increased her already elevated anxiety level up to more than just a few notches. _He_ was pacing around the table, silently examining her trembling, and indefinitely confounded form.  
She looked absolutely terrified, speechless, even. He smiled at this fact, although it was more of a smirk than anything. It was the kind of expression that would make Carmine Falcone babble like a newborn baby.

"I want to assure you, Grace, that everything you are about to experience is, quite specifically, in the name of science."

He retrieved a certain syringe from the rickety, metal table that sat right beside the slab of metal where her restrained body currently resided. Then, he proceeded to flick the needle, making sure that the lustrous liquid would coat her veins with absolute terror.

"However, I would also like to inform you that it is my job, my very intention…to make you scream."

* * *

Grace had willingly admitted herself into Arkham Asylum for treatment, but the 'treatments' she had been receiving in the basement of the ancient building were only making her condition(s) worse. In all honesty, her 'doctor' proved to be more of a basket case than she could possibly ever be.

Yet what on earth could she have done to prove his insanity? Nobody would have possibly believed her if she had told them the truth, and nothing but the truth (so help me God!).

And the truth was...

Every evening, she found herself groggily awakening onto the same cold, heartless slab of metal. Of course, it usually included the mad doctor looming over her, calculating her every twitch, blink, and sigh.

She knew how the evening would play out. Most likely, she would struggle, scream, and cry but the straps would easily restrain her, preventing her from escaping the nightmare the 'good' doctor had been inflicting on her for weeks.

Then, with great ease, he would inject her with yet another harmful toxin, calmly record her reaction, and repeat the process until she would pass out from sheer terror.

* * *

"_However, I would also like to inform you that it is my job, my very intention…to make you scream."_

Grace didn't know how to respond to such a statement. She knew that he meant it, and she knew that she would eventually scream – there was no doubt in her mind about that.

She chose to remain silent. He eyed her curiously, wondering why she had reacted to what he had said in the manner that she did. Shouldn't she be pleading for mercy? Or was it simply that she was getting used to the fact that almost every week (Grace miscalculated the 'torture' sessions to be every day) she would succumb to paralyzing fear? He really did not know, but he wanted to. Yet now was not the time to analyze such things. NOW was the time to test his new creation. And NOW was the time to make his test subject …**scream**.

Setting his beloved syringe to the side, he reached for a scalpel. It shined menacingly in the bright, cruel light. He made a cut just below her collarbone, remaining impassive as the blood dripped onto the glass slide. She had an inkling that the slide would be examined as a kind of "before and after" project, what the contents were from before the terrorizing chemical, and what they proved to be after they had been brutally forced into her blood stream. She winced in pain as the blade sliced into her flesh, and she emitted a small gasp.

She could not keep silent any longer.

"Why are you doing this to me? You are supposed to be helping me, not hurting me! What is wrong with you , you sick, sycophantic –"

"Bastard?" He finished her sentence, reaching for the syringe he had prepared earlier, his icy blue orbs gracing hers for a few seconds, as his mouth twisted into a sadistic grin.

"I have already answered your question, Grace. I don't feel the need to reiterate myself. As for helping you… hah… you cannot be helped. In fact, you are as helpless as you will ever be."

He held the syringe in his hand, holding on to it as if it were pure gold. She struggled, as usual, mentally refusing to be injected with this week's newest cocktail of evil. But what good would it do for her to struggle?

"You still didn't answer my other question, though." She replied, her voice wavering slightly as the needle neared her vulnerable arm. In all honesty, she was trying to distract him so that she would not have to be subjected to the pure anguish that would, ultimately, be inflicted on her, anyway. But it didn't hurt to delay it a bit…right?

"There is nothing wrong with me, Grace. I am not the patient – you are. That is why you need this medicine. It is the only way you will get better." He said mockingly, as the syringe finally pricked her arm. His smirk turned into a mask of indifference. After all, there was time for play, and then there was time for work. And now…it was time to get 'the ball rolling'.

The weakest batch of the new toxin invaded her blood stream, instantly wreaking havoc on to her body. She began convulsing, her eyes darting frantically from side to side. As she scraped her nails across the metal table, barely suppressing a scream, he scribbled, quite excitedly, into his battered notebook. His icy blue eyes pierced right through her, as if invading her very soul, yet his expression remained neutral. Those cold, soulless eyes – they never stopped observing her. And they certainly never stopped haunting her.

"Do not fight it, Grace. Let it fill your entire being, encompass your senses. You have everything to fear, yet nothing to gain."

Gradually, her breathing steadied, but this small triumph was only short lived. The deranged doctor retrieved yet another syringe, and practically stabbed her with it, a wicked leer gracing his mostly feminine features. This dose was different; it was stronger, definitely stronger than the last one had been, and the previous one was horrible enough.

"Tell me Grace…what do you fear? Are you afraid of losing control, of going completely mad? Or do you have a serious case of arachnophobia…?" He chuckled at the last part, returning his attention to the notebook that was sitting on his lap. His pen made a distinct 'click' at the exact same moment Grace had been hit –hard- with the recent drug cocktail.

This time she gave into her senses, and emitted a blood curdling scream. This dosage felt as if it was burning her from the inside out, tearing away at her very being. She continued screaming, but begged for it to stop between gasps of pain and despair, her eyes flooding with justifiable tears.

"What do you fear, Grace? Tell me. In fact, if you tell me, I will make it stop." He interjected, his face a blank canvas, as he, once again, began to jot down even more notes.

"I…I don't k-know. Just…just…" Grace could not complete her answer, since her throat began to close up, making her gasp like a fish out of water.

No matter how much she wanted the horror to stop, it simply would not obey her silent, albeit desperate wishes. The convulsions proved to be even worse, at least sevenfold compared to the last dose and the sound of metallic clanking filled the room, barely audible under the control of her heart-wrenching wails.

"Your step-father abused you for five years. He hit you with a chair, which caused you to black out. Yet, when you woke up… he wasn't finished." He said the last statement in a false, caring voice, wanting to see how she would react, if she would say something- anything…

The doctor noted that her skin paled significantly after what he had said. He suppressed a satisfied grin, as she began to speak, her finally being able to breathe after a few anguished seconds of no oxygen.

" I…I am not afraid…of him…no, no….not…" Grace trailed off, her body suddenly going limp, and her eyes glazing over, as if she was ready to die, to just quit without a care, to float into an infinitesimal abyss…

He reached for yet another syringe, mentally calculating what would possibly happen with this final dosage. The doctor was thrilled, ecstatic, and nothing more than menacing, as he injected the third batch of toxin into her already vulnerable body. This strength sent her over the edge of madness, and straight into the land of no return. Her scream loudly reverberated around the basement. It was a wonder that no one situated above this circle of hell could even hear a faint whimper. Blood began to seep from her nose, her eyes overloading with tears of horror. He jotted all of these symptoms down into his tattered notebook, all the while showing no sign of remorse, or even an ounce of sympathy, in his bottomless gaze. He paused for a moment to check her temperature, scribbling down 103.2 F, without a care in the world. He also checked her pulse which turned out to be skyrocketing as the seconds passed by: 180/120.

"I'm …afraid…of…of…death." She screamed in anguish, angry at herself for even admitting such a thing. In all honesty, she had wanted him to guess. But, if this would make him lessen his torture on her, she was willing to try it.

…_Thanatophobia…_

Yet another bought of scribbling. And more scribbling, and more scribbling, until his eyes met hers. He paused for a brief moment, and averted his gaze, focusing his attention back to his obsessive writing.  
That simple look was enough to drive her insane, along with his constant scrawling. Yet, eventually, everything began to turn fuzzy and dark. Suddenly, his face appeared before her, his voice soft and calming, soothingly telling her to let it all go, that everything would be just fine.

"This chapter is over now. You must move on…to the great beyond." He smirked joyously, enjoying the look of sheer terror on the girl's pallid features.

Before she knew it, she plunged into darkness, but not before hearing the 'good' doctor's sadistic chuckle. For now, everything would be just fine. Tomorrow? She couldn't be quite certain. But one thing she knew for sure is that the nightmare would definitely begin again. And she will die over, and over, and over, and over, and…

* * *

So...? Tell me what you think! ;) Constructive criticism, please. No bashing. Nu-uh, no way.


	2. Southern Hospitality

**Arlen, Georgia**

**Spring 1996**

Gracella Chase had always been subjected to the cruel, inane taunting of her fellow classmates. She did not have any friends, she barely showed any emotion, and, most importantly, she refused to speak.

_The demons took my tongue. They said they would give it back when the time was right._

All that Grace really had to treasure were her books, and she had piles of them. If you were to walk into the Chase household, you would suspect the family to be book hoarders. Yet Grace had each nook and cranny memorized. For instance, if she desired to read a science fiction novel, she would resort to the space beside the refrigerator. Or, if she wanted to delve into the mind of Edgar Allen Poe, the girl would venture to the second to highest step on the staircase.

Her mother, Ginger, simply did not give a damn about her daughter, or anyone, really. She was always crashing at friends' houses, smoking pot, shooting heroin, and snorting coke. There had been no limit to the chemicals she would let roam free into her tired body. Grace decided that killing her mother would only be letting the bitch out of her misery so she decided to let her live.

_She will eventually slip into a coma; I am "praying" for that day. _

Her step-father, Adam, wasn't exactly a peach, either. Sure, he was an industrial engineer who brought home the bucks, yet he lacked moral character, much like his 'wife'. He was a functional alcoholic who would often punish Grace for the littlest of things. He would find any sort of excuse to physically, and mentally abuse her. The cycle never seemed to end, and it had been coming to the point where she was being tipped over the edge.

_When I kill him, I will do more than just knock him out with a chair. Oh, the possibilities, daddy dearest!_

Yet, as long as she catered to his every whim, Grace could pile her books in any place she could possibly dream of. The books were a part of her, just like the demons who had consumed her soul. Well, she thought they were demons but, in reality, she was suffering from a severe form of Psychosis.

She kept her beloved butcher knife under her pillow, reaching under the pillow to caress the cool, smooth handle.

_I will play with you soon, my darling. Very soon. I can feel it. They can feel it._

* * *

"Awww, c'mon, Gracey. Open your pretty little mouth, and I'll let you do anything you want to me!" Eric, a typical jock with blond hair and green eyes, taunted the frail girl, who was currently leaning against her locker, trying to avoid the horrible stench emanating from the senior's mouth. It took great effort for her expression to remain impassive, yet she managed; just barely.

_Smoking more weed again, I see. I wonder if you have slept with my whore of a mother yet._

"You need to exercise it a bit, if you know what I am saying." Jack, Eric's homeboy since elementary school, added sinisterly, standing right beside his best pal, who was overly excited about the situation. Eric glanced at Jack just in time to see him make an obscene facial gesture, causing both of the airheads to laugh raucously.

_I don't need exercise, you do. Eric may be fit but you are more than repulsive._

As the bullying went on, a certain boy with feminine features, electric blue eyes, and straggly dark brown hair, leaned against his own locker. It was situated a few rows down from Grace's yet, despite the bustling crowd, he could see almost everything. Jonathan hated to admit it to himself but he found this girl to be scientifically fascinating. Ever since the beginning of the year, freshman year to be precise, he had tried to observe her whenever time would allow him. She had, unbeknownst to her, become his first test subject. At this stage, he was not thinking about creating the fear toxin that would eventually cripple the narrows, and destroys thousands of peoples' lives. No, he was merely analyzing her, scribbling notes into a red notebook that had been reserved especially for her, and only her. No one else was worthy, in his eyes.

He could see behind Grace's mask of indifference, the anger that drove her, and the knowledge that barely anyone of her age could possess. Also, he had seen her expressions change from time to time. That was a rarity, and he found himself privileged to have witnessed them.

As the harassment continued, he noticed, with vague interest, that Grace refused to move. In fact, not only did she refuse to move, but she also refused to stop staring at Eric. Her green eyes never wavered from the boy in front of her, as she clutched an enormous pile of books against her chest. Also, quite surprisingly, her expression remained blank.

Out of curiosity, he purposely put himself into the two idiot's line of sight. Eric was just about to push Grace's books out of her grasp, but was distracted by the gawky, rail-thin boy who had purposely shoved into him. Eric fumed, grabbing Jonathan's shirt, and threw him into the nearest locker, right across the hall. Grace remained in the same position yet, now, her eyes were fixated on the blue eyed boy, the very boy who had been watching her for an unnervingly long amount of time. She did not know whether to be flattered or to be mad as hell. Honestly, wasn't he invading her privacy? What was so interesting about her?

_I know you did that on purpose. Your curiosity is certainly contagious, Mr. Crane. I wonder what you were trying to prove; what you were trying to see? They won't let you see anything!_

"What the fuck do you think you are doing, you little shit?" Eric spat, turning a surprising shade of fuchsia, his face mere centimeters away from the smaller boy's.

Jonathan had miraculously composed himself by now, absentmindedly dusting off his shirt. He was definitely used to this sort of treatment so it didn't bother him in the slightest. He had stopped caring about the matter a very long time ago. It's not as if his great grandmother wasn't any nicer than these bastards. In fact, they were Cardinals compared to Crows.

Eric had the urge to pummel the freak to the ground, but Jack chimed,

"Dude, the Scarecrow's not worth it, man. Let's just-"Jack stopped in mid-sentence, gulping at Jonathan's intense glare that was, obviously, directed at Jack. In all honesty, Jack was freaked out by the eerie boy. But he really should have known better than to have called Jonathan by **that** nickname.

_Scarecrow! _ Gracella repeated in her head, the 'demons' laughing with her; internally, of course. On the outside, she remained the same.

"SHUT UP!" Eric furiously instructed his friend, turning his attention back to the 'Scarecrow'. By now, everyone else had settled into their classes. In a town this small, no one wanted their parents to know that they had witnessed, or especially cheered on, a fight. It simply was not Southern hospitality.

"What the fuck did you think you were doing, rake?" Eric spat, clenching his fists, sweet streaming down his forehead, and onto the lapel of his shirt.

"Honestly?" Jonathan inquired, quirking an eyebrow; suppressing a knowing smirk. His expression was cool and calculated, as if the situation was just a tea party with the president of the United States.

"Honestly." The blond jock choked, his throat dry. Jack resumed his position beside Eric, not feeling as confident as he did just a couple of minutes ago. In fact, he felt quite nervous. Jonathan was pleased to see this, but did not let his emotions show just yet. He had to deliver the main course, and then, most importantly, the dessert.

_It must be something demeaning or else Crane would not be so excited. He thinks I can't see, but I can. We can._

"I was simply wondering how you would react, Eric. I find it quite odd that you spend time in the janitor's closet with Gary Stevens, yet here you are, sexually harassing a young woman." This time, Jonathan did nothing to suppress his smirk. Hell, his eyes looked even brighter than moments previously.

_You wanted to see how I would react, Crane. I have to admit, you are a convincing liar. But lying sends you straight to hell! Oh no, we have a problem here… _ She remained emotionless, carefully aligning her books in front of her locker for the time being.

Eric's temple became visible, as his blood pressure sky-rocketed. However, instead of looking angry, he looked slightly nervous. Now it seemed as if the two blood brothers were switching emotions!

"That is a fucking lie! He would never…NO…!" Jack punched Crane in the nose, causing it to break. Blood gushed out of Jonathan's nose, and slowly trickled down to his overly baggy t-shirt. Despite having a broken nose, Jonathan still seemed amused and, continued confidentially, as if nothing had happened,

"If I am not mistaken, such an act would suggest that you are, quite blatantly, homosexual."

In one swift motion, Eric kneed the boy in the stomach, and then proceeded to kick him in the ribs with just as much brute force as a bull charging at its rider.

Grace could have sworn she had seen Jonathan nod at her a split second before he was knocked to the ground, as if inviting her to do something.

_But what? What is it that you want me to do?_

And then it hit her.

Of course, she had imagined the wink, but the mind can be very convincing when it is not wired in precisely the right way.

_It's time! It's time!_

She picked up Alice in Wonderland (which was at the top of her stack of books), and took out the butcher knife embedded between its deceiving cover, gingerly placing it behind her.

Grace had moved closer to Eric's furious form, all of her books, once again, situated in a neat pile on the floor, right in front of her locker. She held the knife behind her back as she inched ever so closer, while Jonathan was in the process of receiving a cracked rib.

"I have one question, sir." She spoke, in a timid, innocent tone. It honestly sounded as smooth as Key Lime pie.

Eric stopped abruptly, quickly turning to face Gracella , who still bore the same vacant expression that usually adorned her rather pretty features. Her black hair bounced with each small step that she dared to take.

Jonathan peered up at Grace with a curious expression, his gaze never wavering from her approaching form. He noticed that she had something hidden behind her back, but did not even try to move an inch to stop her. He knew what it was. He had seen her look at it, since it was situated in the confines of a book (of course, it had to be Alice in Wonderland). She had cut out the shape of the object and placed it in there, preparing for the right moment to strike.

_Ask him, Gracey. Ask him the question!_

"Are you afraid to die?" And, in an instant, before Eric's shocked expression fully registered, Grace jabbed her beloved butcher knife into his jugular, watching him struggle, as she giggled softly. It started out as an innocent chuckle, but soon turned into a maniacal cackle as his body hit the blood soaked floor.

By this time, Jonathan was standing across from her, refusing to show any sign of weakness. His electric orbs widened in fascination. In fact, if one would look close enough, you could see that he had grinned, but just slightly. The blood did not bother him. He was so used to his clothes being drenched in mouse blood that human blood didn't seem to be any more significant.

Jack was long gone by now. He had run to the school's office, instead of just barging into the classroom situated on the opposite side of where they were at the time, very much near Grace's locker.

"You speak." Crane muttered casually, as if what had just happened was an everyday occurrence. He didn't make an effort to steer clear of the blood pooling on the floor. The blood from Eric's jugular had splashed onto him. And, as it looked, it also spattered onto Grace's ironed, white dress.

"You're next." Grace replied with a sadistic wink. She ran over to his side, and backed him into the lockers, eyes burning with hostility.

Her hands pinned each of his wrists to the locker; he didn't struggle.

"You have been invading my privacy, and defiling me in that silly notebook of yours; I just know it!" She fumed, backing away from him to retrieve the knife from the corpse's throat.

"And they will tell me when to do it. I trust them. They are my friends!" She cleaned the knife off on her shirt, as if staining her very innocence, innocence that had been taken a long time ago.

"And who are your 'friends'?" Jonathan inquired, not in the least bit frightened. He was actually thrilled, especially to have witnessed such a wonderful psychotic breakdown. And her words echoed through his head repeatedly, and methodically,

**_Are you afraid to die?_**

* * *

Reviews please? Thank you!

Hmmm...so WHY do you think Jonathan was so fascinated with Grace? No, they will never be romantically involved. Ever. Let's just get us out of our head now, please. ;) How do you think she caught his attention? Also, have you noticed the symptoms of Schizophrenia I have included in this chapter? Yeah?

Fine...don't answer. XD


	3. An Unexpected Turn of Events

Sorry for the chapter being late. I was going through a terrible bought of writer's block. I hope you enjoy it, but I don't think it is my best work. Trust me, though. The next chapter will be the best. You might be a bit confused at first but, once you use your brain, it will be quite fantastic.

Oh and thank you for the reviews! They feed my soul. ;)

* * *

Jonathan simply could not believe the new admission file that had just been handed to him by Doctor Arkham. It seemed so surreal, so illogical to be true. A wave of nostalgia and dark excitement illuminated his being but, of course, he would not let the skittish man in front of him no anything about his feelings

Needless to say, Crane's expression remained impassive.

"Your specialty is psychopharmacology and, right now, you are the best fit for this…disturbed…young woman. Besides, Dr. Crane, I have the Joker to deal with…" Arkham tittered as if he was on a caffeine binge but, by the last phrase, his words became slowed and dulled.

_It sounds as if he is pleading with me to take this case; I won't let him off that easily. _

Jonathan cleared his throat, and moved to hand the file back to Dr. Arkham, smirking inwardly.

"I already have about more than three fourths of the patients here. How can I possibly fit in yet another one?" He stared, his icy blue eyes ablaze, trying to make it seem as if he was pissed off when, in reality, he was filled with a sense of power and glee. Yes, even Jonathan Crane was capable of feeling glee. He was human , after all. Yet some people would call him an animal, namely his 'patients'.

Dr. Arkham seemed taken aback, almost fearful, despite the power he had over the slighter man. Jonathan's sense of power became stronger, just like the ideas of what he and Scarecrow would do to poor, dear Gracey.

_The SAME girl who stabbed Eric Johnston in the jugular just because the voices told her to do it…and I got to witness it! Oh the things I can do to-_

"I assure you, I will give you a pay raise. Dr. Crane, I REALLY need your help." Jerry insisted, daring to stop Jonathan from passing him. This was quite a brave move on Arkham's part since, usually, he was just a pathetic doormat.

Crane glared at him, but his expression quickly turned to indifference. He did not want to appear too excited about the possibility of a pay raise. However, it was hard to contain his little moment of happiness, since he had just manipulated Dr. Arkham into doing exactly what he wanted him to do. And, all the while, he was just getting a bit of joy out of playing with Jerry, and retrieving his prize- that file.

_That girl._

"Fine," Arkham's face lit up with relief. He was about to respond when Jonathan interjected,

"However, I expect her to be fully in MY control. Do you understand that, Dr. Arkham?"

"…yes. I will not pester you, I promise." Jerry nodded, grinning vivaciously as if he had just won the lottery.

"Oh, and I expect half of my current paycheck since this is, after all, a big favor." Crane's mouth twitched, as he tried to suppress a grin.

Dr. Arkham gaped at his colleague yet nodded all the same, quickly turning in the opposite direction without so much as a 'goodbye'. Hell, he didn't even give a handshake.

_Some people just do not possess Southern hospitality._

Jonathan thought to himself, as he chuckled lightly, opening the door to his office, feeling rejuvenated.

_It's time for us to play, Jonny. And this time, it'll be 'seek and go hide'!_

* * *

"Miss Chase, can you hear me?" Jonathan reiterated, growing a bit annoyed at Grace's lack of response. She was in a catatonic state, which he could clearly recognize. However, this is not what he had wanted in the slightest. No. He wanted her to talk, to tell him things that he wanted to hear.

You see, it was all about him and his satisfaction. He could (usually) care less if she became better or not. Therefore, he was going against his original job description.

Jonathan felt a bit guilty, but Scarecrow felt nothing but empowerment. This was about him, after all. Well, it was about both of them. They may be separate entities but they did share the same body, after all.

_We should inject her with the newest strain of toxin – it'll surely get her out of this catatonic state. _Scarecrow suggested, but Jonathan ignored his request. Instead, he began to write notes. They were a part of protocol, and he had to maintain the idea that he was really in this business for helping people.

It had never been about helping others, really. The idea of being a psychiatrist was merely to understand the audacity of human nature, and to see the effects of psychotropic medication on the fragile human mind. The idea of experimentation with fear festered along with the dominance of Scarecrow.

"….remember you." The petite woman muttered, her gaze completely fixated on the annoyed doctor.

This startled Jonathan , but he had become a master at masking any vulnerabilities. He sat down his pen , and interlaced his fingers, slightly leaning closer.

_Some catatonic states only last for a few minutes…I was expecting that to be the case, Scarecrow, so that is why I did not want to go to such drastic measures…not yet. _

"You remember me? Miss Chase, I have never seen you before. That is impossible?"

"Highschool." She replied timidly, but her eyes never left his.

"I assure you that we have never met." He lied smoothly, putting great doubt into Gracella's mind just by his puzzled gaze alone.

"Your name. You were the one who was stalking me." Gracella chimed in amusement, which was quite dangerous for Jonathan. However, he did not have to worry. He had ordered her to be put in a straitjacket…

HOWEVER, Gracey knew how to maneuver her way out of one. Alas, he also knew this as well.

_Always one step ahead, aren't you, Jonny? Good boy. Now we just need to wait for the inevitable…_

"I never did such a thing, Miss Chase. This is the first time I have ever had the pleasure of meeting you." He scoffed, letting Scarecrow take control.

"I have Alice in my veins. " Grace fumed, her green eyes ablaze.

Scarecrow let out a low chuckle, too low for Grace to actually hear.

_Just as quirky and spiteful as I remember. We need to change that…don't you agree, Jonny boy?_

"Who or what is Alice?" Jonathan asked, his voice a bit strained. He certainly did not want to share this moment with Scarecrow, and the good ol' Crow felt the same way about him. Tis quite confusing, really.

Grace smiled a smile that could be compared to a certain cat in a certain book that contained the name Alice…

"Alice in Wonderland. Except she is not in Wonderland anymore. She is inside of me. And she remembers you."

She tilted her head to the side, looking Jonathan up and down.

"She helped me kill Eric, remember?"

"I don't know who Eric is, but perhaps you could tell me more about him, about why Alice helped you to kill him?" He replied calmly, mentally cursing the clock for moving so fast.

"Fine…if you want to play a game, we will play a game," Grace mumbled, and then went completely still.

_Oh no, not another catatonic state_…wait…_her straitjacket_! _I knew this moment would come._

Scarecrow immediately took over as the young woman lunged at him. He was mostly angry at Jonathan for rejecting his idea earlier, but he needed to let some of the anger out on something, or someone, else.

"You don't remember me, and I don't remember you." He quipped smartly, as he pinned her to the ground. She wanted to scream but his eyes told her otherwise, so she kept quiet.

"Your mind is creating scenarios for you, Gracey. We have never met. I repeat… . !"

She spat in his face and started to laugh. His jaw tightened significantly, and a vein seemed to be popping out at the right side of his head. And, of course, his eyes were filled with hostility.

He immediately reacted to this by clenching his hand around her small, vulnerable throat, not caring about the consequences. This was his game now, and he was going to win, no matter what the cost.

"This is a game you forced upon yourself, Gracella! You are deluded, psychotic, mad! These are facts you must accept. And I am going to help you on your journey to acceptance." Scarecrow rumbled, his gaze never leaving his victim's as he peered down at her through chrome orbs.

"But first, you must learn some manners. Am I speaking clearly?"

She nodded frantically, tears coming to her eyes.

"Good." With his anger quelled, Scarecrow leered down at Grace, pouting mockingly.

"Alice would not want to be late for the tea party, now would she?"

_Not yet! There is more to discover than her fears, so much more. We can compare her from back then to how she is now._

Jonathan came back to his senses, immediately loosening his grip on Grace. She had passed out, and he had a feeling that bruises were forming around her neck as he kneeled above her.

_We'll say that the guards must have done it, that you noticed the bruising shortly after she had first entered. We'll say that it was such a shame to find out that such a lovely girl could be abused in such a manner._

_Oh poor, sweet, dear, TERRIFIED…Grace._

* * *

_Joker POV_

_I saw the bruises on her throat and realized what had happened. Good ol' Crow had lost control once again. I couldn't help but chuckle at the thought._

_Losing control. I never lost control. Ever._

_The others call her Alice, but I call her Graceful. Heh. More like goodbye graceful._

_I overheard that a guard got fired. Luckily, it wasn't the one who was letting me out of my cell for the night. I..I needed him- for a few more days, weeks tops._

_I was shocked when I didn't hear her scream. This one must be special._

_If Jonny thought she was somehow special, then maybe I should join in on the fun…_

* * *

_Hmmm….what am I going to do with the Joker? ;}_

_Reviews, please! I expect constructive criticism only, dears. I know this chapter wasn't exactly excellent but I promise a great one in the future, one that will be twice as long and ten times more shocking. _

_I have plans…dirty, evil plans. –wicked laughter-_


End file.
